At Long Last
by Darc Greyhaven
Summary: The Winchesters are on their way to finding out how to destroy the rabbits foot when a yell catches their ears. Not too far away a mysterious, perhaps even dangerous, girl is being harassed by a group of demons. (Set in Season three, episode three... slightly AU after that.) (first person)


I am almost sure that we have never met. My name is Faith. Faith Greybrooke. I know, such a silly, trivial thing, a name. But I'm not your silly, trivial type of person. I've never had the chance to be. I know what you're thinking. Boo hoo, now I get a sobb story. And I'm sorry that I can't disappoint you, but my whole life has been a living nightmare. Almost all twenty years of it.

My parents died two months after I was born. I never got to know them. My Grandmother was the one who took me in. She was the mother of my mother, after all. Truly a kind and generous woman. She was my protector. The one true ally I ever had. And she used to tell me stories of my parents before I would go to sleep at night, making sure to tuck me in and turn on the nightlight in my room.

My mother, she always said, was the prettiest woman on the face of the earth. Inside and out. She was always smiling and laughing. She had the longest black hair, the bluest of blue eyes, and the fairest of skin. She sounded like the princesses in the stories that I once read. I used to believe that maybe I had gotten some of her traits, because Grandmother… she used to stare at me, almost as if she was looking at a lost memory. It always made me want to cry. There were night when I would pretend to be asleep, and while I 'slept' Grandma would watch me, imagining her own child that once slept in the same room.

My father had a gruff appearance and a kind heart. His dark brown hair always hung in his mud brown eyes, and he had the heartiest laugh. He used to sing me to sleep whenever I would wake up in the night. He was loyal, faithful, and giving. He and my mother were meant to be together. Grandma always said that they were a match made in heaven.

And then I was born. A crying little girl child. They used to stand over my crib and watch me sleep. For two months my parents had the family they had always wanted. My grandmother said I had my mother's blue eyes, and my father's dark brown hair. And I had the biggest smile. She once told me that I had my father's heart, too. But that was long, long ago. I was tall compared to my mother when she was little. And more fierce, but just as compassionate. Grandma always told me that my mother was so protective of the other children around the neighborhood, even as she grew older and got married.

Too soon after that came the night of the fire. No one knows how it started. No one knows how I got out. Grandma used to say it was an angel that saved me. Said that a strange man brought me to her door. That was all she ever told me. I didn't believe her, still don't. Why would an angel save me and not my parents? But when it came down to it, the people that went to see what had happened to them found no bodies. No proof that anything had ever been there. Except for the charred ground and a little bit of rubble, nothing was left of our little house.

My grandmother had me for a few years after that. Those were the happiest years of my life. I still wear the necklace she got me for my fifth birthday. A consecrated iron pentagram that hangs dutifully around my neck. She told me that one day I was going to need it. That it would protect me from anything that wanted to hurt me. For so, so long I never knew that she literally meant any_thing_ that tried to hurt me.

That was until the year I turned seven. The year I realized that my nightmares could become reality and that no matter how hard I tried, I would always be different from the other children. I could always see things they couldn't. I could hear the things that whispered in the dark. I knew things that would send most children scurrying for their mothers.

But that was all before the night I met my very first demon. Not that I knew that at the time. I can still remember coming home one night, from school. Grandma lying asleep on the couch. I took the key from the lock before shutting the door behind me and locking it back. Something felt terribly off to me. Something horribly wrong. For months before that night, I had dreamed, well had nightmares really, of something breaking into the house, trying to kill me, kill Grandma. I thought they were just dreams. I had hoped beyond hope that they were just nightmares. But time cannot heal all wounds, only lessen the pain. I remember I sighed as I placed the key in my pocket, walking into the kitchen to fix dinner. The sun had gone down moments before I got to the door. I had spent the afternoon at the park with the only people I could call friends.

I had pulled some homemade soup from the fridge and let it heat in a pan over the stove. I was staring out the window when the room grew chilly. I never saw the shadow. I never noticed the lights flickering. And It had crept up behind me. It had reached a tendril of a hand out to touch me, more of a black fog than anything else. But it cringed away with an inhuman howl when it came within an inch of the skin on my neck. The necklace had done it's work. I still screamed. The yelling from the kitchen had raised my grandmother from sleep. She was staring at the creature before she began a chant. I didn't know at the time that it was an exorcism. I just knew that whatever she had said to it, caused it to shriek in agony, and then it was gone. I had run to Grandma, and hugged her tight as hot tears rolled down my face. That was the last time, that she was alive, that I went anywhere alone.

By the time I turned eight, my grandmother had been murdered and I had no family left. It was perhaps the _worst_ night of my life. We had come home from the diner down the road, having just had a blast listening to 80's rock hits in the car. We opened the door, and she gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead before sending me off to bed. That's when the night went to Hell. When one of the windows caved in with the sound of shattering glass. I had looked fearfully at my grandmother, knowing full well that she always knew what was best. She sent me to hide in the closet in the living room. To lock the door and allow no one entrance unless I knew it was her.

There was heavy thudding footsteps, and I had decided to peek through the crack in the door. The man that came in through the window never saw me, never knew I was there. Or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted me to remember, because when I saw him, his eyes were obsidians in his skull. He didn't move quickly as he watched Grandma, but he murdered her swiftly; she didn't even have time to scream. And then he was just… gone.

I ran to her then. Knowing I would never hear her kind voice again, never see her bright eyes, feel her warm body pressing against mine as she hugged me. I could only stare at her at first. Her throat was slit. She was drowning in her own blood. I leaned against her and I cried for hours. When I rose and moved away from her body, she was cold. That was the last time I had someone who cared for me. It was then that I decided to train myself in the art of hunting the supernatural. To become the hunter instead of the prey. It was then that I came into the life of a hunter. It certainly wasn't the easiest thing. I had no one to teach me. I was still small. I didn't have any weapons, and what I did have was far too big for the body of an eight year old. I didn't know what to even look for. I didn't have the slightest clue how to defeat the supernatural, but I took to the road anyway, staying away from anything that breathed.

That was the way I grew up. I got my schooling from the different books I'd pick up along the way. I learned from the same books about demons, angels, and anything supernatural. I also picked up the odd job, here and there. Finally I built up enough money to buy car. All the while I worked with my powers, trained myself to be better than the things that I hunted, and that hunted me. By the time I turned fifteen I could move things with just a thought.

Now that was a fun year. I took that year just to mess around with people. To move things around in their homes, at their offices, in their cars. They thought they were going crazy. Things moving on their own? I have to laugh just thinking about it. They never could figure out was going on, and I eventually got bored and moved on. That year I also learned I could pin things to walls… have them in my grasp long enough to send them to Hell, the old fashioned way. I learned at least that much from my Grandma.

And if their was one thing I knew about her… it was that she was something close to prophetic. Everything she ever prepared for, it always came to pass. The warnings she gave me; to always wear the necklace that I learned was made of consecrated iron, to never allow myself to be caught off guard by anything, to stay out of the line of fire, and most of all, to protect those that mean anything to me. From her I learned that life was short, no matter what you did, so I continued to make my way around the United States. I saw the Grand Canyon, the Rio Grande, I even went to the Empire state building a few times.

But it was two years ago that I learned I could exorcise a demon with a little bit of effort and power of will, never uttering a single word. It was my eighteenth birthday when I finally saw that demon again. I couldn't believe he had the gall to show his face in my presence, claiming he was the one who killed the only good thing in my life. He made me so, so angry. I never know what I was doing until it happened. One second he was standing in front of me, taunting me. The next… Well, he was pinned to the wall by my hand on his throat and he was choking on the black smoke trailing feebly out of his mouth. The smoke eventually managed to expel itself from the body it inhabited before being drawn down through layers and layers of solid rock. Right back to where he belonged. I just smiled at the small piece of revenge I had received. He deserved to be sent back to Hell, and so I sent him.

Last year I learned two important things: how to keep the angels away, and how to kill a demon. Both take immense amounts of power, power that I sometimes don't have. And neither is an easy task. Demons are the hardest to destroy. Angels are the hardest to hide from. They are both everywhere.

I found it amusing the first time it happened, though. That same demon that I had sent back to Hell just the year before, somehow managed to crawl his way back up to Earth and seek some sort of sick revenge. Tormenting me with his incessant claims. Constant taunts of how he wished he would have made it last much, much longer, How he wished he had made me watch it, knowing that I could do nothing. So I pinned this sorry excuse of a demon to the wall with my bare hand, pouring so much hatred into it that as I willed him to disappear into the darkest depths of the Abyss, I never realized as he was engulfed in flames. Killed by a mere human _girl_. Dead at long last.

Soon after that I discovered a book on enochian symbols and writing. With certain sigils I could keep myself warded against angels, and if I ever needed it I had discovered the sigil needed to cast angels away. I still keep the book hidden in the small bag I carry with me everywhere. The small messenger bag that holds all of my worldly possessions. That book, a pair of binoculars, a pair of sunglasses, and a blessed knife.

I don't think anyone even knows that I exist anymore… or anything for that matter… I keep to the shadows, away from the light. Whatever I run across usually tries to kill me. Hunters, demons, normal people on the occasion. I usually kill them first. Hunters think I'm one of the psychics that were chosen by some demon named Azazel. Demons want me dead because I can send them back to Hell. And if the angels knew about me, they'd want to use me as a weapon. I'm already a freak among ordinary people. But what do I do? Who can I turn to but myself?

About this time was when I started watching the Winchester boys. It was safer for me this way, to know where they were at all times, to know they weren't hunting _me_. I know everything that has happened to them in the last year. Sam's death, Dean's deal… The devil's gates. Everything. They have been tracking this one case though, last night someone had broken into one of their father's old storage facilities. Their number one priority was to find and take back what was stolen.

Three days ago I had a run in with another demon. A feisty one that was. Nearly killed me. Left me a mess on the floor of the house I've been staying in. I patched myself up, of course. Then I left. There was too much blood to clean up properly. That's how found myself where I am now. Cornered in a dark alley in some God forsaken city. Surrounded by four very pissed demons. I guess the one I fought the other day was too chicken to come alone. And to top it all off… I lost the Winchester boys about four hours ago.

I nearly laughed at the sight of being trapped by four demons, and the fact that it was four of them that came to kill me, but this was no laughing matter. Demons are not the easiest to face when it's just one on one… but with four on one? I didn't really have a chance. And with the Winchesters somewhere in this city, the best I could hope for was for them to track the demons this far, and maybe come by in time to save an 'innocent human' from being killed by demons.

The one who attacked me last time, the leader of this horde, stepped closer. Glaring in hatred at me through the meat suit he now inhabited for the time being. He had the stupidest smirk on his face, and I just wished I could wipe it away. He knew that I didn't have a chance, except maybe to send them back to the hellhole they came from. And he knew I didn't have enough power to even do that. He knew I was still recovering from the other day. His smile grew larger as he realized that I had started to panic, my fear coming off of me in waves.

He breathed in a deep breath. "You know… Your fear smells so sweet. I thought I would never get a treat such as this," He took another strong breath. "Such power. Such courage." He chuckled. "Now imagine my excitement when I realized you were all alone, again, and unable to do anything about it if I chose to attack." His smile grew much larger, and far more malevolent.

"You should never have left that little circle of safety you called home. Oh wait… You haven't had one of those since you were eight." He laughed again, taking advantage of the fact that he had me trapped because of my own stupidity. I looked to see if there was any way out of this, but it all happened so quickly. Suddenly I was on the ground, my forehead throbbing where something hard and sharp had connected there, leaving a large gash. I tried to push myself back up, but a leg swept my left arm out from under me, crushing my wrist under the full weight of my body. I cried out as I heard the bone snap. I tried again only to receive multiple agonizing kicks to my chest. I felt more than hear the bones that snapped then, but my sounds of pain were muffled as my face met concrete.

I winced as I was dragged up by the collar of my AC/DC t-shirt, the shirt pressing against the ribs that were broken, making it hard to breathe. I saw a flash as a fist landed against my already broken ribs. That was misery. The rest of the air was knocked out of my lungs as I fell to the ground. I watched fearfully as the leader stepped forward, purposely stomping on my leg to hear the bone snap. And as if that wasn't enough I could feel it break in three different places. I looked down at my left arm, not sure how, but realizing it was bloody and shredded in some places.

I attempted to stand, but cried out as it put pressure on both my leg and my ribs. I finally managed to stand back up, getting lost in thought as I saw two figures in the background staring dumbstruck at the sight before them. Obviously it was the scream that attracted the brothers.

I never once believed that I would die at the hands of hunters, in fact I believed the supernatural would get me first, but as I looked at the group of demons around me… they knew, just as I did, that I feared the hunters more. Hunters were the human ones. And I certainly hoped that I would never have to face the Winchester boys. The only two hunters that truly struck fear into me. They were a tag team of mystery and mayhem. Sam, the youngest, I knew he had powers… powers that some people could only dream of, and I pitied him for it. He didn't want them and Dean hated them. I knew what he was going through, though… I had felt it every second of my miserable life..

A painful jab to the right side of my face threw me from my thoughts as I slammed into the alley wall behind me, a strong grip on my throat. I clawed at the hand as the demon pressed harder, staring into my eyes. It truly frightened me to be at the mercy of the demon before me. I gasped for air as the grip tightened slightly.

"You know that they won't help you. Not after we get through with you. They going to know just what you are. And you and I both know that Dean's not going to want to let you live. Not after what happened to his brother. Now you know what you have to do… if you want even a chance to survive." He smirked at me, knowing just what I would choose. Hunters were still human, there was a chance they would let me live. If I chose to stay at the mercy of this group, this little band of demons would make sure that I didn't live to see the light of day again.

I felt tears run down my face as I realized what I was going to do. The demons would give me a slow torturous death, the hunters would either kill me, or leave me to shameful sadness, I raised my right hand, knowing I was going to need it for extra power and with as much concentration as I could muster, the knowledge that the two most fearsome hunters were watching sending shivers of fear through my spine… I sent every last demon before me to Hell with sheer power of will, and watched as each of the bodies they had inhabited fell to the ground, already dead.

With a painful huff I collapsed against the wall, trying not to cry out as I jostled my ribs. I breathed heavily for a moment, taking stock of my own injuries, and remembering why my left arm was bloody. The wounds from my last battle with the demon had reopened themselves with my rough treatment. I grimaced as I took my notes: At least four ribs were broken, my left wrist was twisted in an odd angle, the gash on my head was still bleeding, my left leg was broken in three places, my left arm was a bloody mess, and my throat felt like hell from the bruises that were sure to be quite a sight.

I hardly noticed as the Winchester brothers drew closer to me. I had to concentrate just to keep from falling into unconsciousness. But when I did look at them, I noticed that neither brother took their eyes off of me. I didn't know whether to be thankful that they were coming close enough that they might be able to provide help, or to be subdued because I knew that these two were one of the least likely to help me. "Please… help… me…" I wheezed out. I looked up at them only to realize that I had startled them. They must have assumed I was unconscious. Wondering for a brief moment if it was the smartest thing to do, I raised my good arm in a way of saying that I wasn't going to hurt them. They still hadn't said anything. The movement jarred my ribs again and I held my breath to keep from curling in on myself and making it worse.

I could hear the boys' footsteps come ever closer as I willed my eyes to open again. Dean had crouched down in front of me, the pistol he was holding at his side. He was studying my injuries. He glanced up at Sam. "What'd'ya think, Sam? She working with those damn demons?" I waited fearfully to hear the verdict, lacking the strength to try and convince them otherwise.

Sam looked at me for a moment. "She can't be. You saw what they were doing to her." I cringed. He was almost monotonous. I knew that seeing me do that wouldn't look too good on my part, but I had to take my chances. I raised my head to look at Sam. "Please, Sam. Help… me…" I knew that speaking to Sam when Dean was being so cautious wouldn't help. I glanced at Dean and noticed as his gaze hardened.

Sam's eyes flickered. I could see that he wasn't sure what to do. He could tell that Dean would rather kill me first and ask questions later. Certainly that was what it _looked_ like. I flinched away as Dean stepped closer, sure that this would be my end. Dean sighed. "Alright, look. I'm not going to hurt you, but if you sit here much longer, you aren't going to live through the night." He held his hands up and waited for me to agree to at least be looked at. I paused a moment, confusion in my eyes, before giving a small nod.

Dean reached out and began to find out where bones were broken, and felt to make sure my skull wasn't fractured where the gash was present. I winced when Dean moved his hand over my left shoulder, reaching to see if I had any broken ribs. I quickly raised my right arm to stop him. "Already… know… at least… at least four…" I managed to breathe out to him. I slowly lowered my arm as he nodded. He looked at my leg. "Damn, they got you good. SAM! Get the kit from the impala… and don't lose that rabbit's foot. We are so going to need it."

He looked at me. "You are going to live long enough to get to tell us what in the hell you are doing here, and how you just exorcised four demons in an we'll decide what to do with you." He looked behind himself as Sam approached with the small medical kit. It would have to do for now. I grimaced as I realized that the bones would have to be set. Dean took a bit of gauze and wrapped it around the gash on my forehead. He did the same to my left arm, replacing the now soiled ones that I had placed a few days before. I nearly screamed as they pulled on the wounds, blood having dried slightly and stuck to my skin. Infection had set in because I couldn't clean them correctly in the past few days. I almost lost consciousness as he set my left wrist.

I tensed against the alley wall behind me, wondering how no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. I looked up at Dean, wondering where he had gotten the ability to so carefully dress wounds. And I was confused. I had truly believed that he was going to kill me. He had less than a year to live, and this man was wasting time dressing the wounds of an orphaned psychic girl. "You… You… Why?" I asked, curious as to why he didn't just convince Sam to leave.

He looked down at me with a small smile. "Because if you aren't working with the demons, it means we can't allow you to just die in the middle of the street, not until we know your side of the story." He sighed. "Sam, come help me. She isn't going anywhere with her leg like that. We got to get her back to the room with us before someone notices that something happened. We don't want to be here when the cops show up." He looked at me. "Look, don't try anything… Our luck is up, and I'd like to keep it that way." I gave him a slight nod as he and Sam set the bones in my leg before picking me up. Any protests I had to being handled as such died in my throat as I realized that time was of the essence… and that Dean liked carrying no more than I liked being carried.

I few minutes later I was in the back seat of their sweet '67 Impala, Dean was turning the ignition, and Sam was casting furtive glances at me in the rear view mirror. My head began to spin as the shock of the night finally passed out of my system. Then came the fear. I reached up with my right hand and cupped it around my pentagram necklace.

This was the first time in twelve years that anyone had helped me. I could feel the tears well in my eyes. The last time that I had the chance to even think about relying on someone… was the night my Grandmother died. I had watched the Winchesters for a year… and I never once believed that they could save me. I clutched the charm tighter to my chest, careful of my wrapped ribs. I bowed my head as I realized that maybe the brothers were a miracle in disguise. I had been running for so long, maybe now I didn't have to do it alone. I could feel Sam's eyes on me as I began to cry silently.


End file.
